


Plotting

by yeaka



Series: Random Roleswaps [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis doesn’t understand that Prince Gladio’s retainers are always on his case.





	Plotting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marmolita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/gifts).



> A/N: As you can see, I’m doing random FFXV role swap ficlets. This is for Marmolita’s “Prince Gladio, school friend Ignis, shield Noctis, and advisor Prompto” suggestion. Lemme know if you want one.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As much as Gladiolus is loving the new Justice Monster’s go-kart racing spin-off game, it’s difficult to concentrate with both his retainers in the corner of his eye. Ignis is sitting between him and them, up against the side of his black faux-leather couch, but Ignis is bent forward in concentration, and that makes it easier to peer over his slender shoulders. Noctis and Prompto are huddled up in the kitchenette, Noctis leaning against the stove with his arms crossed and Prompto standing close enough to touch. They’re speaking in soft, conspiratory whispers. None of it carries over. Every once in a while, one of them will don a little grin, and that raises the hair on the back of Gladiolus’ neck—there’s only one reason they could be whispering.

“Do you think they’re talking about me?” Gladiolus mutters, looking back at the screen just in time to avoid careening off a cliff. Two NPCs dart past him, Ignis’ character still far out of sight. They’re on lap one of the longest track in the game, the last one before the final cup. At this rate, Ignis is probably going to cream him, but Gladiolus is a proud man and a fighter, and he plans to catch up. It’s his game, after all—theoretically, he should have more practice. Except that the only time he has to really play is when Ignis is over. 

Ignis answers without so much as blinking, “No.”

“They’re gonna up my training schedule,” Gladiolus grumbles, because Noctis goads him about that all the time. It doesn’t seem to matter that Gladiolus is built like a bear—Noctis takes his job as Gladiolus’ shield way too seriously, and he’d work Gladiolus to death if he could, even though he himself is the one who always falls asleep right after practice. On the other hand, his advisor could be the one causing problems—Prompto’s always cramming one more thing into his schedule than he can take. “Or they’re gonna make me get another job or something, I just know it.”

“They’re not talking about you,” Ignis coolly responds. He hasn’t once looked over at the other two, yet he speaks with complete confidence, like he often does with everything. Ignis is a thoroughly intelligent, level-headed friend, but he’s the newest to their group, and he doesn’t know Noctis and Prompto like Gladiolus does. As if he can sense Gladiolus’ tension, Ignis adds, “Don’t worry about it.”

Gladiolus mutters, “You don’t get it; you don’t know what Citadel life is like.” Then he immediately regrets it. Ignis frowns, chancing a small look at Gladiolus, who guiltily shrugs his shoulders and corrects, “Sorry. It’s just that those two have been harping on me my whole life...” It doesn’t seem to matter that they’re all friends. Ignis is the only one who _truly_ lets him forget that he’s the prince.

Ignis sighs, now sounding a tad exasperated, “Gladio, they’re really not talking about you.”

“How do you know?”

Ignis simply quips, “Because they’re obviously flirting.”

Gladiolus slips and misses a power-up. His cheeks heat up as his head swivels sharply around to Ignis, then over at his retainers, still avidly caught up in one another. Just in case, he lowers his voice when he hisses, “No way! We’re all friends...”

“Of course, you’re right, Your Highness,” Ignis deadpans. “They’re robots that turn off when we’re not spending time with them, like our teachers in high school.”

Gladiolus wrinkles his nose and wants to argue but has nothing to say. Of course he knows Noctis and Prompto have lives outside of him, it’s just... he never really thought about _their lives outside of him._ Prompto seems to live and breathe for his duties, always going above and beyond to aid in every little aspect of Gladiolus’ life, and Noctis would give his life for the crown. They’ve all become so close, but it all revolves around Gladiolus—he’s the center of the circle, the one they all connect to. The thought makes him feel both selfish and weirdly left out at the prospect of Noctis and Prompto doing something without him. Not that he’d want to do _that_.

He’s so lost in his sudden existential crisis that he misses the last turn, slamming into the wall and reaching a dead stop. It wouldn’t matter anyway. On Ignis’ half of the screen, his kart slides smoothly over the finish line, and he announces with only a _touch_ of pride, “I win.”

The screen confirms it, fading out Gladiolus’ and letting Ignis’ taking it up, confetti pouring in from either side as Ignis’ character gets out to climb up the podium. Their scores scroll down, Gladiolus set shamefully behind a whole five NPCs. 

Prompto’s laugh interrupts Gladiolus’ stupor over Ignis’ unadulterated victory. In the kitchenette, Noctis is grinning, looking at Prompto like he’s going to close the distance and gobble Prompto up. Now that Ignis has said it, Gladiolus can’t un-see it. Then Prompto pats Noctis’ hip and shoves him away from the kitchenette, and Noctis mumbles something incomprehensible and wanders out. 

“Will you be joining us for the next round?” Ignis politely asks. Noctis nods, slipping onto another chair and fetching a spare controller. It’s all so painfully _normal_.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Prompto announces, “who wants pasta?

“I do if Ignis is making it,” Noctis counters, which has Prompto pouting and Ignis chuckling. 

Ignis chimes in, “I would like some, please.”

“Cool. Gladio?”

Gladiolus grunts, “Yeah,” because he’s always up for food, especially anything with noodles. But what he really wants to tell Prompto is that he better not going and breaking Gladiolus’ shield’s heart. Or maybe he should tell his shield to be careful with his advisor. His dilemma must show on his face, because Ignis subtly pats his knee in a consoling fashion. Gladiolus feels bizarrely like a child who just realized his parents have a _relationship._

Maybe he needs a break. But Noctis whistles, “You let Iggy beat you, huh? You gotta do better than that if you wanna be king some day.” And even though he’s obviously teasing, the goading works; Gladiolus splutters and throws a couch pillow at him. 

“You’re going down!”

Ignis reminds them, “You’re both going down,” and hits ‘start.’


End file.
